


The Games Never End

by Grundy



Series: Games Without Frontiers [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 04:11:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4691636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grundy/pseuds/Grundy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Johanna Mason wants nothing to do with Capital citizens, no matter how rich. But like so much else since her Games, she has no choice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Games Never End

Johanna stared at the invitation. She didn’t dare decline it. Not now. Not after the ‘accident’, when it had been made shatteringly clear to her why exactly it was most Victors played along with the Capital and did Snow’s bidding like good little lapdogs instead of the lethal mutts he’d made them all into. No one had ever explained how carefully muzzled they were. If she doesn’t play by the rules this time, the reprisal won’t be against her family- that’s not possible anymore- it will be against her entire district. She’ll have the privilege of watching, and outliving them all.

_Aurora Aestiva requests the honor of your presence at a private dinner._

The time and date given were this evening- which meant the citizen ‘requesting’ her presence had already cleared it with Games organizers and fully expected a properly dressed and well-behaved Victor on her doorstep at the named time.

She knew in a vague sort of way who Aurora Aestiva was. The woman, unlike most Games sponsors, was a recluse. She never went out. But occasionally, she invited victors she’d sponsored to her home. No one ever spoke of what went on there- which was more than enough to make Johanna’s finely attuned bullshit detector go full tilt.

She eyes the ostensibly harmless piece of paper as if it’s another trick of the Gamemakers. Across the lounge, she catches Finnick staring at her. She doesn’t trust him, either, the smarmy bastard. Unlike the rest of them, he’d practically had his games handed to him on a silver platter- it had been all over when that gorgeous trident had come falling from the sky into his absurdly handsome lap. She distrusts his looks, the same way she distrusts everything about this place.

Odair picks his way over to her, dropping down into the chair across from her with a smile she’s told others find charming. It might have charmed her once- before she’d been put into the Arena. Now, it looks practiced. One more strategy from a trained killer more dangerous than most. Unlike the other Victors, Finnick Odair is only a few years older than her. He’s still in prime condition. If it ever came to her or him in a fight, it would be him.

“Bee in your bonnet, Mason?” he asked with a smirk.

“Shut it, Odair,” she growls.

“You know, you could drop the snarl and sheathe the claws,” he suggested good naturedly. “At least, when it’s just us Victors.”

She snorts.

“Right. Because we’re all just going to hug and start singing ‘Kumbaya’,” she says sarcastically.

He shrugs.

“You can do what you want. No one’s going to make you be nice or even civil to the rest of us,” he replies, his tone determinedly pleasant. She could needle him all the livelong day and he’d never let it show if it was bothering him. “But consider this: the people in this room are about the only people in the world who understand. We’re all just as fucked up as you are.”

The self-loathing in that last sentence gets to her, but she plows right past it. She doesn’t want to examine why it is District 4’s golden boy might hate himself. Maybe some of that stack of bodies did bother him after all.

“From the Games, or from slutting it up afterwards?” she spits.

His eyes flicker for a split second, and Johanna is suddenly glad there are no weapons allowed here. For whatever reason, her crack had cut to the bone.

“I’m not like you, Mason,” he says quietly. “My family are still alive. And as long as I _slut it up_ on command, they stay that way.”

Her face is frozen. That’s the only explanation for why she’s not screaming, or turning red as the implication of Finnick’s words sinks in.

“I’m sorry,” she mutters.

“It’s not your doing,” he replies equably, but this time she can hear the anger underneath the act.

Is this what all these Victors do? Put on an act? Why the everloving fuck hadn’t Blight explained?

“Anyway, Mason, that’s not why I came to talk to you.”

He nods at the invitation. Johanna belatedly realizes how distinctive it is- and that Finnick must have seen one before.

“You should go,” he says. “It’s not bad.”

This time she looks at his eyes, and sees there what he won’t say in words- because like the rest of them, he’s learned the hard way to be cautious. Aurora Aestiva, whoever she is, is not like the others.

She shrugs.

"Not like I have much choice, is it?"

\---

When Johanna steps out of the car that was sent for her, she realizes that Aurora Aestiva is even more different than she expected. Unlike most Capital citizens, who never walk anywhere if they can help it, her estate has a drop-off area for cars- and numerous subtle landscaping security features that ensure no vehicles will go beyond that point.

As she walks through the pleasant garden toward the house, Johanna notes with surprise that the entire property seems to have been designed with defense in mind. Miz Aestiva- and it suddenly occurs to her that she doesn’t know if Aestiva is Miss, Ms., or Mrs., a distinction that matters to citizens- likes her privacy, and by the look of things is prepared to fight for it if need be.

When she reaches the house, she has been anticipated. A lone servant waits by the door, bowing her inside. Johanna had thought it was an Avox, until he speaks as the door closes.

“My lady is in the dining room, Miss Mason,” he says, his voice barely a whisper.

Johanna follows him, unnerved by the raspy voice and economy of his words.

When she reaches the dining room, she finds a table set for two- but the food is generous enough that it could feed several families back home. Eying the dishes, Johanna discovers everything on the table is something she particularly likes to eat, from the seafood stew that she had never tasted before her first trip to the capital to the apple tarts that she had loved the smell of back home and only rarely been able to afford, a special treat on Reaping Days.

Her hostess smiles at her and the servant.

“Thank you so much, Bradley,” she says. “You may help yourself to whatever you like in the kitchen. I’ll ring for you when Miss Mason is ready to leave.”

The servant leaves them with a bow and a smile, and after his departure, the woman who was apparently Johanna’s biggest sponsor in the Games presses a button.

“There,” she says in a voice that rings with satisfaction. “Now you don’t need to worry about Brad listening in. Not that he would- he only has the power of speech inside my house.”

Her mobile face falls slightly at the last part, as if she’s vexed about it.

“Why?” Johanna says, finding her voice. She belatedly remembers she’s supposed to behave herself with this formidable sponsor, but Aurora Aestiva doesn’t seem at all bothered.

“It’s magic,” she says with an impish smile. “And it only works here.”

“So he is an Avox,” Johanna says slowly, trying to puzzle this out.

“Regrettably, yes,” her hostess replies. “You may call me Aurora, by the way. And please, eat. I’m told these are all favorites of yours.”

Johanna nods cautiously as she sits.

“So you have an Avox but you want him to be able to talk.”

“It’s my fault he’s an Avox,” Aurora says. “So it’s up to me to make right as best I can. I don’t have the power to restore his voice entirely. But I can give him the power of speech here, where I’m strongest. And I was able to buy him back from the government, so they won’t be able to hurt him anymore.”

The mention of her financial might makes Johanna uneasy.

“And me? What did you buy me for?” she asks, as she decided to skip the seafood and go for the macaroni and cheese. It was the first thing she ate after the arena, and it will forever taste of victory, of surviving.

“I didn’t buy _you_ ,” Aurora replies carefully. “I just bought you a fair chance of survival. What you do with my money is up to you.”

“You talk like I’m still using it,” Johanna said accusingly.

“You are,” Aurora replied simply. “Or did you think it would have bothered Coriolanus to liquidate a Victor? It would have been tragic, to be sure, if the medical technicians had been unable to stop the bleeding from that wound, but understandable.”

“They stopped it with no problem!” Johanna protests.

“They did,” Aurora nods. “You were perfectly healthy when you made the decision to defy President Snow. But you hadn’t been seen in public yet, which means that you could have easily been summarily executed. Would have been, were it not for the fact that I expect to dine with my Victors. An expectation I was forced to remind our good President of- and was charged for accordingly.”

Johanna blinked.

“You’re saying you-“

“Ensured your survival after the Games?” Aurora asked blandly. “Yes. Unfortunately, your family would have been eliminated either way. Coriolanus can’t afford to let defiance like yours go unchecked.”

“Why?” Johanna shouted. “What does it matter? They had their damn show! What do you people want from us anyway? That war you’re still punishing us for was generations ago! No one alive now remembers it!”

“Not true,” Aurora said, pouring herself a cup of tea. “I was there. I remember. So does the President.”

Capital citizen or not, wealthy sponsor be damned, Johanna was close to attacking the woman.

“You’re lying,” she said flatly. “You look maybe ten years older than I am. Even Capital tech can’t hold off aging that long.”

“True,” Aurora agreed. “And by the way, there are no sharp knives for a reason. I’d hate to have to main or kill my own victor- and I’m not only older than I look, I’m considerably tougher.”

Johanna snorted.

“Capital tech may not be capable of stopping the aging process, but magic certainly is,” Aurora continued. “And seeing as my birth was magical in nature, I don’t age as a normal human would.”

“And President Snow?” Johanna demanded. “What’s his excuse? More magic?”

Aurora’s face twisted unpleasantly.

“Not magic. He’s not human. He’s something that doesn’t age. Something that humans now don’t even remember, because he’s gone to great lengths to eliminate all mention of them.”

Johanna rolled her eyes.

“Maybe here in the Capital. In the Districts, we remember a lot of things the Capital forgot. The old folk tales are still told. Some people still hope for the day the Champions will return.”

“Do they?”

That had gotten a reaction from the woman. Johanna’s eyes narrowed as Aurora Aestiva regarded her closely.

“What would you say if I told you there was a reason you of all people from District 7 were chosen in the Reaping?” Aurora asked.

“Because I’m special?” Johanna asked sarcastically.

“As a matter of fact, yes,” Aurora said, sounding sad. “You, Johanna Mason, are descended from a Champion. Just as Snow hasn’t been able to completely eradicate the folk memory of them, I can’t completely remove them from the government’s memory, because the President remembers them personally. He fought them.”

“Let me guess, he won,” Johanna snarled.

“Not won so much as managed to escape and bide his time until times were unstable enough for him to take over,” Aurora replied. “And when he did, there was nothing preventing him from trying to eradicate the lines of the Champions he knew of. I’ve watched too many of their children pop up in the arena over the years for it to be a coincidence.”

“Who is this champion I’m descended from?” Johanna demanded.

“Her name was Faith,” Aurora said, “And if she knew what had been done to you, she’d resurrect herself expressly so she could personally stake Coriolanus Snow.”


End file.
